


Awakening

by AnonWrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Head Injury, Injured Arthur, Injury, M/M, at least I aimed to show that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonWrites/pseuds/AnonWrites
Summary: Arthur wakes alone in a dark room.





	Awakening

When he opens his eyes he couldn't move. 

In fact he couldn’t feel anything at all. Not in his body. Not in his mind. A feeling of numbness settled deep in his bones and he was loathe to move and take stock of the situation. But his mind had also started to wake up and he was always the impatient sort, so he instead turned his attention into sitting up. Wherever he was did not have a lot of light but he could make out a corner connecting two blank walls. The concrete floor was hard and cold on his cheeks and his side was uncomfortably wet. He then notices that he was on his side. He would need to push himself up.

Control comes in slow stages. He tries with his fingers first, then his hand and whole right arm. It takes several tries before he could even see it shift in the edges of his vision. He pushes down slowly, trying to use his hand as leverage to pull the rest of his upper body up. He realizes several things when this happens. His head is injured, his knuckles and his side are throbbing and his other arm felt … wrong. 

There is a gross feeling when he moves his head, as if he was peeling it from a sticky substance and the movement makes him feel dizzy and tired. He is tempted to stop and lay back down. Be still and let the sharp stabs of pain subside for a little while, but he keeps trying. He has a very strong feeling that he should. He is also starting to feel really uncomfortable and sticky and he hates being uncomfortable and sticky. Usually anyway. Except for very specific situations. As he pushes himself up he feels like whining. I mean really, his husband should be helping him up. Then cleaning him up. That is his job. Where was he?

Wait.

Husband?

It sounds correct though. Of course. Of course he has one. His head still feels fuzzy but he could remember impressions of strong arms at his back and sides. A warmth that surrounds him after exhaustion or sadness or irritation. A peck at his head and cheeks and longer and sweeter ones at his mouth. 

He is panting when he finally gets himself to a sitting position. Brief, shallow pants. It seems breathing too deeply is currently not possible based on the pains from his chest. He is so tired. Why is he so tired?

He wraps his right arm around himself and his head falls to his chest as he concentrates on breathing. He leaves his left arm limp at his side. It is a heavy aching weight but its too much hassle to try and rest on his lap. He needs to move. He knows he needs to get somewhere. But his body is really heavy and he still feels numb to his surroundings and he just wants to sit here and wait. For him. 

He gradually realizes that there is a large stain in his sweater, spreading from his left side where he had lain on the floor. The darkness of the room makes it look like spilled ink. When he touches it with his right hand, the fingers come away with a dark blob. The stain feels half dry but there was enough liquid to keep it slick and sticky. His side continues to pulse with pain. 

His head is pounding. Then his heart starts pounding. There is a deep sense of dread and urgency rising up from inside that he is pretty sure did not come from him. He knows he still feels detached and numb. That part is clear. But then there is this feeling of fear that making his heart hurt and it seems separate somehow from his own sense of his feelings but still so close. Like a vague shape behind a foggy plane of glass. 

He is not as worried as that feeling is trying to make him. He knows he should be but he is not even sure what happened to him. He focuses on what is certain instead. He may not be able to move much right now but his husband will come soon. He will help. He would come and help him figure out what happened and fix everything because he has magic and he would always use magic to help him. Its uncertain now and uncomfortable but he could always rely on that truth.

What was his name again? 

Voices creep up behind him. Moving his body further hurts but he manages to turn his head and shoulders enough to see an open door. So that was where the light was coming from. 

" ...fine …. Jus …. stress. We … all been working hard..."

The sounds grow larger and he could hear a pair of steady clicks coming his way. 

" .. aps he just got lost. Again. You know how--"

He finds himself staring straight at a pair of wide-eyed women. 

The closer one, with pale skin, a sharp face and familiar green eyes, moves first, quickly kneeling towards him, phone still in hand. 

"Arthur!" She tries to touch him, eyes wide and voice getting increasingly upset. 

Arthur looks at her and a name comes into his head. Morgana. He tries to say that but all he could manage is a small wheeze. The other woman crouches down as well, slightly shorter than Morgana with a warmer and rounder face. Gwen.

As he looked at her, Gwen's lips had thinned and she started to look over him with a sharp eye. Her eyes widened, then narrowed in concentration as she notices the dark stain on his side and on the floor, moving to that side to put arm on his back and allow him to lean on her. She starts to pull at his sweater, her hands getting stained as well before she focuses her dark eyes on his face. She is pale and has that pinched frightened look that Arthur never liked seeing on her. She frowns at what she sees and Arthur feels sad. Why was she frowning?

“Arthur I need you to focus. You're bleeding out. We need to stop that. Morgana, get them in here...” 

The other woman also has this pinched wide eyed look on her face. Her attention was on Gwen when another familiar sound emanates from the phone," -ana? Where are you!?!" Something in Arthur’s chest loosens with that sound and he starts to lose focus.

Morgana answers tersely, “We found him. Two floors down from the ground floor, far left of the elevator --”

A sharp burst of wind right outside the door interrupts her. A group of men storm in blocking the light. There was a riot of complaints and voices, one asking why it's so dark in here, another calling out several names, but his attention was riveted on the first one in. He smelled strongly of heat and smoke and his eyes were a golden yellow. Under his gaze he could feel himself relaxing. Everything would be fine like he knew it would. His husband was here. He would help. He could be at ease now, succumb to the heaviness settling in his body because he would take care of everything. 

What was his name again? 

Ma- Mil - Mer -lin. Merlin. 

Merlin was here.

He lets himself smile in welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic! I'm trying to get into the habit of actually posting and doing something with my works. As for this one, I kept thinking about this scene on and off for the last week. Not sure about what happened before or what comes after but I wanted to write it down.  
> I'm not a medical expert so this is just what I would imagine someone with a head wound/concussion? coupled with blood loss might be thinking. At the very least one with an altered mental state due to injury. Would probably need some editing later but for right now, I hope you all enjoy!


End file.
